Dalton made a face. “Obviously a lovers’ quarrel of little consequence.”
Alicia looked up. Although Dalton appeared unimpressed, she didn’t believe he took the matter so lightly. He stood and brushed a kiss on Alicia’s cheek. “Excuse me, my dear. I remembered something about which I need to speak to Mr. Leary before he leaves.” He smiled at his sister, then left the room.
Olivia’s eyebrows slanted in a frown. “I’ve never understood my brother where Mother is concerned,” she whispered. “He can be quite unfeeling.”
Alicia sensed that Dalton cared deeply about his mother, whether he knew it or not. She didn’t believe his act of indifference for a moment. Although she wanted to defend Dalton to Olivia, she decided against it. It wasn’t her place. Besides, Olivia didn’t know that the dowager’s great love was not her husband but his brother, George. Without knowing the truth, Olivia could really never know the complicated woman who was her mother.
“Why do you think your mother is marrying Lord Templestone?” Alicia asked.
“I have no idea! What possible reason could she have?” She sniffed. “Templestone is the one who will profit.” A frown creased Olivia’s forehead. “Tales of his debauchery provide endless hours of titillating gossip for the ton. I can’t imagine what Mother is thinking.” Her voice was tight with concern. She paused when the maid entered the room, carrying a tea salver.
The servant placed the tea on the table in front of them. After she left and closed the door, Olivia continued.
“Mother is too proud, too proper, to be associated with the likes of him.” She took the tea cup Alicia had poured for her, the delicate cup clattering against the saucer.
Sipping her tea, Alicia watched her sister-in-law. “Will you speak to your mother about your concerns?”
Olivia cradled her fingers around the cup. “No. Mother never listens to anyone once her mind is made up.”
“But if you spoke to her, perhaps she could allay your fears—”
“My dear, my mother has no wish to allay anyone’s fears. She will simply refuse to speak of it.” Olivia gazed at her and smiled. “I’m afraid, my dear Alicia, that your mother-in-law can be most trying at times.”
“I’ve invited her to visit us for Dalton’s birthday celebration.” She smiled at Olivia’s gasp of surprise.
“We received your invitation, and I’ve already responded with a written acceptance. What a lovely idea, Alicia. I can’t remember Dalton ever receiving a birthday celebration, now that I think of it.” She tilted her head to one side. “Anyway, Robert and I will be here.”
Olivia took another sip from her cup. “I think it’s most gracious of you to invite Mother after all she’s done to you. You’re the most forgiving person I’ve ever met, Alicia. But don’t be disappointed if Mother refuses to acknowledge the invitation.”
“That’s exactly what Dalton said.” Alicia smiled when Olivia gave her an I-told-you-so expression.
Alicia rose and pulled the bell cord along the wall. “I want you to meet Rufus,” she said lightly, hoping to distract Olivia’s sober mood. Within minutes, a maid entered the room.
“Mary, please ask Ives to bring Rufus.”
“Yes, your grace.” The maid turned and left.
Olivia lifted a delicate brow. “Rufus?”
Alicia grinned. “Wait until you see him.”
“Knowing you and Dalton, Rufus must be an animal.”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Just then, a knock sounded on the door, and Ives entered with Rufus. The wolfhound bounded across the room and leaped over the side table, clattering the tea service. His final leap ended beside Olivia on the sofa.
Olivia clapped her hands. “Good heavens, a horse!” She giggled, petting the silver-gray head.
“He’s an anniversary present from Dalton.”
“How romantic!” Olivia’s fingers curled around the gold chain. “You’re a handsome fellow, Rufus. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Rufus slurped his long tongue across her face. Olivia laughed. “Oh, Alicia. I can’t wait until you and Dalton have children. You both have so much love to give, and you’ll spoil them dreadfully.”
Alicia felt a flush warm her cheeks. “Rufus, get down this instant.” The dog slunk to the floor and curled up at her feet.
Olivia put her cup and saucer aside and eyed the tea cakes. “How I miss cook’s delicious lemon scones,” she said, helping herself to a fat, golden morsel. “So tell me,” she said, nibbling at the flaky corner, “are you still training Bashshar?”
“Yes, in fact, I have an assistant. Ulger’s son, Penn, is helping me. Bashshar accepts the lad, and Penn has the makings of a fine horseman.”
Olivia’s blue eyes twinkled. “I’ll wager Dalton is pleased. Now you’ll have more time for him.”
Alicia blushed. “Dalton is quite busy working with Jupiter. He’s entered the stallion in the Newmarket Classic. Two months won’t give Dalton long to prepare.”
“Working with Jupiter will divert Dalton’s disappointment about Bashshar,” Olivia said softly. “He was so discouraged when Bashshar was injured. My brother had his heart set on capturing the Winner’s Cup.”
Alicia hesitated. “I think Bashshar is ready to race, and I’ve been wondering…” She was filled with half excitement, half dread. “Do you think Robert might help me enter Bashshar in the Classic as a surprise for Dalton?”
Olivia’s eyes rounded with surprise. “Oh, what fun! But do you really think Bashshar can race again?”
“Yes, in fact, I think the experience would do him good.”
“What splendid news! But why surprise Dalton? I would think my brother would be thrilled at the idea. He’s always wanted Bashshar to race at Newcastle.”
“Yes, but…” She wasn’t certain if Olivia would accept her plan. Alicia paused, weighing her options. Olivia watched her, her blue eyes bright with expectation. Yes, she would trust Olivia and Robert. If she were to put her idea in motion, she’d need several allies to help.
“You see, Olivia, I’m not certain Bashshar could win if just anyone rode him. I—I thought…” Alicia hoped Olivia wouldn’t think the idea utterly foolish, but she pressed on. “I was thinking of riding Bashshar myself.”
“You?” Olivia almost dropped her teacup. “Why…that’s quite impossible, my dear.”
“Why? I’ve been riding and training horses since I was eight years old. When my grandfather was alive, some of England’s greatest jockeys trained at Marston Heath. I watched and learned from the best-”
“I’m sure you have,” Olivia said gently.
Alicia lowered her voice “—if I dressed as a man, I know I could ride Bashshar to victory. But there’s one problem I haven’t worked out yet.” Alicia paused to refill Olivia’s teacup. “Dalton would know as soon as he read Bashshar’s name on the roster that I was the jockey. There’s no possible way I could surprise him.”
Olivia’s eyes lit with an idea. “I’m not so sure. I remember Robert speaking of a mystery entry who won several important races on the continent a few years ago. The horse was disguised in colored silks and the jockey was masked.” Her eyes danced with excitement. “What if you did the same?”
“A secret entry? Do you think it might work?”
“I’ll ask Robert. His cousin, Lord Teddy, is one of the pillars of the Jockey Club and would help us, I’m sure.”
Alicia recalled the distinguished-looking gentleman. “Thank you for offering, but I wonder what Dalton might think.”
Olivia looked genuinely surprised. “Alicia, that doesn’t sound like you. Besides, Dalton trusts you completely. What better way to show him that Bashshar is cured than to ride him to victory.” Her smile beamed. “And if anyone can do it, Alicia, you can, my dear.”
Alicia’s heart swelled with hope. “I’d do anything to prove that Bashshar is healed. I want this so much for Dalton.”
Olivia clapped her hands. “Th
en it’s settled. Besides, I’ve always wanted to surprise my brother. Ever since I was a child—” she feigned a scowl and lowered her voice “—Dalton has always guessed my surprises.” Her smile caused two dimples in her cheeks. “But this time, we’ll fool him.” She laughed again. “Let me speak to Robert immediately.”
The following afternoon, Dalton passed the music room and stopped when he heard his wife humming. He peeked inside and stood watching her arrange yellow tea roses, her lovely face intent on her work.
He recognized the melody of their favorite waltz, and her merry humming brought a special warmth to his heart, a feeling still new to him. In fact, for the past five weeks, two days and nine hours since their marriage, Alicia had brought a greater depth of feeling into his life than he’d thought possible.
She’d infused her magic throughout the ancestral house of Wexton with her special touch. From the bedroom candles scented with his favorite sandalwood to the ubiquitous vases of flowers throughout the rooms, Alicia had transformed the chilly formality of Havencrest into a warm and gracious home.
She had put her special touches on him, too. From their first joining, he knew he would never be the same. From his first waking moment, he could hardly wait to see her rapturous face as he made passionate love with her. How his heart yearned to watch her melt with desire. But it was more than physical passion. Alicia was his heart.
The realization crushed down on him. He was in love with her. Dear God, but it was true. He’d never thought it was possible, but somehow, this lovely, incredible young woman had stolen his heart.
“What are you thinking, Dalton?” she called out, sniffing a golden bloom. “You’re staring at me with a strange look on your face.
He feigned a serious frown. “I was mentally weighing the agricultural merits of turnips as a spring crop,” he said, unable to hide the teasing from his voice.
Her laughter sounded like tiny bells. “You had that far-off look in your eyes,” she said, her brown eyes twinkling. “And I don’t think it was turnips that were on your mind.”
He rounded the piano and came beside her. “How well you know me,” he said, taking her hand. But he felt too vulnerable to admit how very much she meant to him.
As if she sensed his thoughts, her eyes lowered in a demure gesture as she smiled.
“What brings such a happy smile to your lips, my darling? Thoughts of your husband, perhaps?” he whispered in her ear.
“Actually, yes.” She tilted her head up and looked steadily at him. “But it’s a surprise and I can’t tell you.”
“Hmm, a surprise?” He ran a finger along the nape of her neck. “I know about my birthday celebration. Are you planning something else?”
Her lovely eyes filled with laughter. “I’ll give you one hint,” she said, sliding into his embrace. “It’s something Robert is arranging, and I won’t give you any more hints.”
“Robert, eh? Then my sister must know. I’ll ask her.”
Alicia pursed her brow together in mock horror. “You will behave yourself and ask no more questions.” Her arms twined around his neck as he tasted the delicate soft hollow of her throat. His mouth lowered and he felt a shudder of pleasure ripple through her.
“Dalton, I almost forgot! I’m expected at the stables. Penn will have Bashshar saddled and ready for me.”
Dalton nuzzled her behind the ear before he released her. “I’ll go with you. I’d rather you not ride alone.”
“I’d love your company,” she said, her smile as warm as a July afternoon.
The sharp rap at the door startled them. Dalton glanced up to see the butler entering the room.
“Your grace, Mr. Brockmoor is here for your fitting.”
“My fitting?” It took a moment for Dalton to remember. “Brockmoor, my tailor,” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Damn! I’d forgotten that he was coming from London today.”
Alicia grinned. “I’ll go ahead, and you can join me when Mr. Brockmoor is finished. You can’t keep the man waiting, Dalton.”
Dalton gave Alicia a sly wink. “Very well, but take Penn or one of the grooms with you, just to be safe.”
“That’s not necessary,” Alicia said, moving to the door. “I’ll be riding Bashshar along the hedgerow, away from the woods and the gaming fields.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “I’ll be careful.”
Chapter Seventeen
Alicia rode Bashshar along the grassy stretch, reining in when they passed the turnstile gate, which marked the finish of the six-furlong distance. She gazed at the stopwatch again, not believing her eyes. But it was true—under two minutes—Bashshar’s best time yet.
She could hardly contain her happiness since Olivia told her that Robert approved of her idea to ride Bashshar, and promised to speak to the racing board immediately.
Yes, she might have her chance to race Bashshar at Newmarket!
She leaned down and stroked the horse’s neck. “You’re going to make your master so proud,” she said. The stallion blew, tossing his head. If only the board would approve of her registering as a mystery entry.
She glanced around for Rufus, who had taken off to follow a rabbit through the field. “Rufus?” she called, her gaze searching the golden-tipped grass to the far edge of the gaming field. The only answer came from the cedar and spruce branches creaking in the afternoon breeze.
Alicia’s pulse quickened. How far would Rufus trail the rabbit? She glanced across the high ridge of colorful square patches of fields as far as the eye could see, but there was no trace of the dog.
Uneasily, she urged Bashshar through the grass. “Rufus?” she called against the wind. Beneath her, she felt the horse shiver, and she wondered if the horse realized that they were approaching the dense thicket near the place the shooter had last struck. She felt a strange premonition and reined in, deciding to return to the manor. She would have Ulger send the grooms to search for Rufus.
Alicia had no sooner wheeled Bashshar in the opposite direction when she recognized Dalton’s two-wheeled curricle, pulled by the pair of white horses, racing across the park. She stared at the dark-haired gentleman driving the carriage and the fashionably dressed lady by his side. Olivia and Robert. Alicia bit her lip. They were heading straight toward the open stretch that bordered the gaming fields.
Alicia brought Bashshar around and raced the horse along the hedgerow path at the edge of the woods, her thoughts on warning Olivia and Robert. If she hurried, she might stop them before they ventured near the gaming fields.
As Bashshar’s hooves thundered beneath her, she forced a calm she didn’t feel. It wouldn’t help the horse to sense her uneasiness, if he hadn’t already. Her fears were foolish, no doubt. When she caught up with Robert and Olivia, safe and sound, they would all share a good laugh.
Suddenly Bashshar broke stride and slowed to a trot. He whinnied, tossed his head, his great brown eyes showing white. “What is it, boy?” She stroked his neck, her gaze searching the woods. Except for a splattering of sunlight slanting through the leafy canopy overhead, Alicia could see only vague shadows.
The massive animal beneath her lunged from the trail, branches and limbs snapping and flying at her. For a moment, Alicia had all she could do to keep her seat as she pulled back on the reins.
The stallion charged into the bushes. Alicia clung for dear life, knees pressed to the stallion’s sides.
Suddenly, the horse stopped. Alicia pitched forward, almost losing her seat. Directly in front of them, a movement in the alder bushes less than fifteen feet away caused her to look up.
A man, half hidden in the shrubbery, raised a shotgun and aimed for the moving curricle.
She froze. Bashshar curled his lip, baring flashing white teeth. Icy fear shattered through her as the horse screamed, charging for the shooter. She clung on for dear life.
Startled, the man whirled to face them, and his weapon fell to his side. Before he could raise the gun and take aim, Bashshar was on top of him. The horse reared,
black mane flying as his front hooves wildly stabbed the air.
The shooter’s face paled. He swung the gun, trying to club the horse with the weapon.
“No!” Alicia cried as she stared in terror. With all her might, she pulled hard left on the reins, in a futile attempt to control the horse.
A second later, Rufus’s silver head appeared above the tall grass. The wolfhound bolted into the hedgerow toward the man. The dog’s snarl was the last thing Alicia heard before Bashshar reared and struck out at the shooter. The man’s bloodcurdling scream pierced her senses.
When Alicia finally gained control of the stallion and tied him to a tree, she dashed to the man writhing in the bushes. He sat up, holding his mangled arm. Rufus, with the man’s ankle in his jaws, shook the leg as though it were a rag doll.
“Git yer bloody dog off me,” the shooter yelled, trying vainly to kick Rufus. The man’s hat fell off, revealing bright-red hair.
Alicia stared at Penn’s older brother, Neville. Anger and outrage surged through her. She glanced at the shotgun lying a few feet away. She dashed over and picked up the weapon. “How could you, Neville!”
“That bloody ’orse broke me arm!” the man accused.
A flood of relief filled her. Thank God Bashshar hadn’t killed him, as she’d first thought. But the shooter’s right arm was definitely broken.
From the nearby tree, Bashshar tossed his head and stamped the earth. Behind her, a voice rang out. “Lady Alicia, are you all right?”
She wheeled around to see three riders canter through the tall grass. She recognized the bearded, bespectacled man in the middle—Inspector Leary.
“I’m unharmed, but the man on the ground is hurt. I think his arm is broken.”
“We’ve been following Neville for the past several days,” Inspector Leary said, breathing hard. He swung down from the saddle. “We couldn’t arrest him until he attempted to shoot. When I saw you on that black horse heading straight for him, I—I—”
“It’s fortunate no one else was injured,” she said, suddenly feeling shaky.
“We got here as soon as we could!” the inspector said, his tone apologetic.
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